Fantasy
by Arthur Poutdragon
Summary: Sam Flynn has grown up well. For a request on the Tron kinkmeme that asked for Junior fantasizing over Sam. Junior solo, imagined and implied Sam/Ed Dillinger Jr.


Junior sees him after the latest prank. Gets out of the building, follows after him in time to see when the police catch him, because hell, it's been six, seven years since he actually got a proper glimpse of Sam Flynn, and he's rather intrigued to know what Kevin Flynn's son looks like, coupled with the fact he can apparently now hack the ENCOM system in a matter of seconds. Either that, or take down the defences systematically over time without anybody catching on.

Either is rather impressive, Junior has to admit.

He also has to admit that Sam Flynn is rather impressive altogether, when he actually gets a glimpse of him. He'd still looked not entirely comfortable in his own skin the last time, a little too lanky and thin, his hair slicked back in a style that didn't suit him at all. Now, though, he's cocky and grinning as the police get ahold of him, and there must be muscles under that outfit, even if Junior can't actually see them. Hair fluffed up, eyes shining in the light and visible even from where Junior's standing in the light of a street lamp. He's confident and a reckless daredevil and _hot_, and when his eyes meet Junior's unexpectedly he grins even wider, like he's pleased that Junior in particular has witnessed his stunt.

Junior just rolls his eyes, guesses Sam sees from the sudden laugh that obviously surprises the officers around him, and turns away to make his way home. He's sure they'll want him back in the office to make sure the servers are all secure now, but he has other... pressing matters to attend to, right now.

ooo

When he gets back to his apartment, it's all Junior can do to even make it to the bathroom before he takes his clothes off. He's determined to show restraint, even with nobody there but himself to witness it - he's not impulsive, not _utterly uncontrollable_ like Sam - but that _laugh_ of all thing had gotten to him. Made him imagine _other _noises Sam could make suddenly, the things Junior could do to get those noises out of him, and now he's achingly hard, breath coming in frustrated gasps as he struggles with his clothes.

Who the hell ever thought buttons were a good idea?

He gets out of his suit, removes his glasses and sends them clattering to the tiled floor, not even caring enough to pick them up as he shifts into the shower. He's slipping already, less than a minute watching Sam Flynn and one brief non-verbal exchange, and already he's failing, even if just in such a minor way.

The spray is hot against his skin, and Junior groans despite himself, bites his lip as he trails a hand down his front to grip his aching cock. He _won't_ fantasize about Sam Flynn, he _won't_, except even thinking the name has brought up images of that grinning face, those bright blue eyes and oh _god_. Junior cries out loudly, jerking his hand faster, and when he opens his eyes, between his hair having fallen into them and the lack of glasses, his vision is blurred enough that he can imagine it's Sam's hand jerking him, not his own. He can imagine that laugh from behind him, Sam grinning against his ear and it's all that Junior can do not to come right then and there.

He doesn't _want_ to imagine Sam in control of it, though. He wants to imagine Sam pressed up against the wall, or maybe face-down on a bed so that any noises he makes are muffled by a pillow. Junior fucking him so that he can only whimper, Junior asking him all about his fucking _stunts_, the fact he has to do something new every single year to fuck with ENCOM and yet he won't stand up and do anything worthwhile to help his father's company.

_Do you get off on having everyone paying attention to you like that?_ he'd ask, and he'd know that Sam couldn't answer but it wouldn't even matter because Junior would have him, _Or maybe it's the pain you get off on. Or the jail time. You know what they say about guys like you in prison, is that what you enjoy? You want to be prison bitch for one night a year so that you've got wank fodder for the rest of it?_

He wouldn't let Sam come, though. He'd have tied Sam's arms behind his back to stop him touching himself, and he'd pull out, finish himself off all over Sam's back and then roll him over so that he couldn't get off by fucking himself into the mattress.

_Perhaps it's **me** that you're interested in,_ he'd say then, and it would make sense because Sam Flynn would be in his bed and gagging for it, after all, _Maybe you're pulling all of this, messing with my systems, taking them apart piece by piece so that you can get inside of them because in your crazy little Flynn mind that counts as flirting. You want to get inside my systems like you want to get inside of **me**._

Sam would only get to come once he'd agreed to that, once he'd begged to be allowed to come, because Junior would be _right_ and he'd have Sam Flynn writhing in his bed and even then he'd probably drag it out. Torturously slow strokes of his fingers across Sam's cock and Sam would beg and whine and _cry_for it until he'd finally come all over Junior's hand, and Junior would suck it off his fingers just to make Sam grin at him, albeit a little more ruffled and flushed and even hotter than he'd been earlier that night.

The thought of Sam Flynn grinning up at him, sex-rumpled and with tear tracks down his face from begging for it is enough to make Junior come himself, and he doesn't even care if anyone in the neighbouring apartments can hear him.

He rather suspects they _can._

ooo

When Junior wakes in the morning, he jerks off to thoughts of Sam Flynn again, never mind that this is a _horrible idea_ and if nothing else about it is, then the fact that he's Sam _Flynn _should do something to kill his boner.

It has the exact opposite effect.

Getting into the office to news that Sam has decided to finally get off his ass and actually take his proper place in ENCOM nearly _slays _Junior, and he has to stop himself from groaning out loud while he watches Sam running about to sort things out, because it's not like Alan Bradley can do all of it for him and be everywhere.

It's when Junior is trying to slip out to his office unnoticed, the corridor otherwise empty, that he hears a door open and Sam's voice calls out behind him, "Hey, Junior! My place, seven tonight!"

He doesn't answer, or turn around, but Junior does grin to himself, and when seven rolls around, he makes certain to be standing outside Sam's apartment cum storage container, biting back another grin as he watches the motorcycle pull up.


End file.
